


After the Flood

by whimsicottly



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Post-Altissia, everything is in ruins but surprisingly the world moves on even though they cant, mentions of umbra, sad sad sad chocobros all moping in their own ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicottly/pseuds/whimsicottly
Summary: prompto-centric fic about what the four of them did after the events of altissia. major spoilers for chapter 9 obviously. mostly a series of vignettes, but it has some linearity to it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i am not a writer.

  
The first few hours after the flood are a mess.

  
Altissia is quiet. With the people outside the walls, the once bustling streets are silent, almost like it’s mourning. Even after the city had been through hell, though, it retains its unique dream-like atmosphere. The remaining undamaged streetlights dapple the water, seeming to paint an impressionist artwork on its surface, while gondolas, irresponsibly strewn about and littered over it, ebb back and forth, to and fro. It’s almost calming, nearly tranquil.

  
Ignis and Prompto sit by the stairs leading up to the Leville, where they had decided to regroup. It's been long enough after the battle now that night's fallen over Altissia, making the soundlessness of the city even more deafening with the darkness hanging above it. The fight had dragged on far, far too long, and they'd all gotten separated one way or another. Prompto and Ignis had managed to find each other, and Gladiolus promised to find the missing prince before reuniting at their designated meeting point.

  
Gladiolus finds Noctis soon after the fight, unmoving, at the heart of the damage. He picks him up, carrying him bridal style, back to the Leville. If Noctis were conscious, he’d be struggling and loudly protesting by now, Gladiolus thinks.

  
When he meets with Ignis and Prompto, he finds that they are in better condition (conscious, at least) but not too great all the same. He sees that Prompto is clutching Ignis’ sleeve like letting go will result in immediate death. Ignis’ head is bowed as the pair wait by the steps of the Leville.

  
“Noct,” Prompto breathes, shaky and thick with concern when he sees the unconscious form of his friend. Ignis raises his head.

  
“Is he alright?” Ignis’ voice is low and raw, nothing like the composed adviser Noctis would see him as.

  
“He’s alive,” Gladiolus says, walking up the steps, and into the Leville, “But he won’t wake up.”

  
Prompto leads Ignis inside. “Have you tried Phoenix Downs?” His grip on Ignis isn’t weakening, but Gladiolus notices that he’s shaking, if just a little bit. “I still have some! Use mine,”

  
Gladiolus cuts him off before Prompto can even reach for his supply. “Don’t bother. Already used half of mine on him. No response.”

  
Prompto’s gaze shifts downward, visibly losing heart. His grip on Ignis isn’t as tight as it was a moment ago.

  
“I suppose,” Ignis tries, “All we can do for now is wait.”

  
With no other options in sight, they acquiesce.

 

* * *

  
  
The next morning is no better.

  
Prompto checks on Noctis first thing in the morning. Cautiously optimistic, hoping that his friend had at least twitched, or god forbid, even awoken.

  
Ignis is already inside the room, and it looks like he has been for a while. He’s completely still, sitting in a chair a few feet from the foot of the bed Noctis lies in. If Prompto hadn’t known better, he’d think Ignis was asleep.

  
The light from the sun filters in through the concerningly large, somehow unbroken window. It catches the dust motes floating about the room, making them look more like tiny, unlit lanterns. It dapples Ignis’ hair, turning it into a washed out gold. Prompto would’ve immortalized the moment in a photo had it been appropriate. Instead, he steps inside.

  
“Morning, Iggy,” He starts. He considers making small talk, commenting on the weather, but decides against it. The elephant is in the room, and there’s no way around it. He cuts to the chase. “Any news?”

  
“I’m afraid not.” Ignis turns his head in the direction of Prompto’s voice. “Nary even a shift in the covers, too. He’s completely comatose.”

  
Prompto can physically feel his stomach dropping at that. “Do you think he might’ve woken up while you were sleeping?” He tries once more. “Maybe even just for a little while, before going back to sleep.”

  
“It’s possible, but unlikely. Had he ever regained consciousness, I would’ve known.” Ignis’ voice is still as low as it was the night before, almost inaudible. “I’ve kept my vigilance all night.” He adds.

  
“You mean, you didn’t sleep.” Prompto says flatly, more like a statement rather than a question. He’s not sure how to digest that. It doesn’t sit well in his stomach, for a multitude of reasons.

  
Ignis bows his head as a type of half-nod motion, as if he’s ashamed to admit something, but knows the truth is blaringly obvious.

  
“You gotta get some rest, Ignis.”

  
Ignis takes a moment to respond. “Eventually.”

  
“Come on,” Prompto presses, taking a few steps towards Ignis to assert his point. “I’ll watch Noct while you’re gone. You really need the break.”

  
The most unnerving thing about it all is how uncharacteristically stubborn Ignis is being. He’s never like this. He knows his limits, and knows when he needs to stop in order to perform to the best of his ability, so why? Why is he doing more than he can? Why is he forcing himself? That fight tired all of them out, and he, out of everyone, needs the rest. This is so unlike him. This is irrational. This is _self-destruction––_

  
Prompto’s train of thought is interrupted when Ignis finally responds.

  
“Yes,” he says, making a move to get up from where he’s seated. “I suppose you’re right.”

  
Prompto helps him to another room, and into bed.

  
While he’s watching over Noctis, with only his thoughts and Kings Knight to keep him company (you can only harvest your trees so many times, after all) he realizes why Ignis had been so insistent on staying awake.

  
It’s not just devotion and concern for Noctis, though that may have been a factor.

 

Prompto knows Ignis well enough now to know. To him, in his current state, staying awake and watching over Noctis was the only way he could make himself useful. To Ignis, if he isn't useful, if he can't do what he swore he would always do, what he was born to do, he may as well be expendable. 

 

The thought makes Prompto's heart wrench. Nobody deserves to feel that way.

 

* * *

 

Prompto guards Noctis for what seems like years. In reality, it’s been an hour. Maybe two or three hours, really, no one’s keeping track.

  
He continues to fiddle with games on his phone until he runs out of charge. Continuing to play on the floor next to the outlet where the charger is plugged in grows uncomfortable, so he opts instead to walk around the room, examining whatever item catches his attention. He snaps pictures of the sky through the window as the day goes on. He flips through books. He counts dust particles. He uses all of his Hi-elixirs and Phoenix Downs on Noctis in a desperate, futile attempt to get him to wake up. He plays with Umbra. Nothing too interesting.

  
He pulls a chair up to the bed and sits by his unconscious friend, feeling useless.

  
With nothing better to do, Prompto talks to him.

  
“Hey buddy,” He begins, feeling a bit silly for resorting to this to pass the time. “How’s it going in there? In, y’know, your dreams.”

  
Noctis (obviously) doesn’t respond.

  
“Yeah?” Prompto feigns interest. “What’s it about?”

  
“I bet it’s a good one. Maybe the one where you’re at a cat farm, whatever a cat farm is.”

  
“Or the one where I turn into a Cactuar, and cry ‘cos I wanted to be a Tonberry, but we both know I’d really wanna be a Chocobo.”

  
“No, no, wait. I bet it’s the one where you finally get the guts to kiss Gladio!”

  
“I know, you told me not to talk about that, but hey. We all knew it was that one. I mean, just look at your face right now, dude. The absolute picture of dreaming about tongueing it with your shield.” Prompto snickers at his own joke, before picking up his camera, and snapping a photo of Noctis to commemorate the celebration.

  
He looks over the photo, smiling sadly. It would’ve been a great shot, had it not been for the current circumstances.

  
He sets his camera back down.

  
“Come back to us soon, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

  
Prompto spends the next few days after that walking around Altissia. He snaps photos of the aftermath. Of upturned tables, shattered flowerpots, and gondolas where they shouldn’t be, among other things. ‘There’s beauty in the chaos,’ he muses, ‘wow that was pretentious,’ he follows it up with, but continues taking pictures anyway.

  
He notices over the course of those few days that people are gradually returning to Altissia. They work together to return the city to its former glory. He helps, too. Turning the tables upright, cleaning up the broken shards of shattered flowerpots, and returning the gondolas to where they should be.

  
He wonders why he’s giving himself such a hard time, working himself half to death with the restoration effort, but really, he knows that it’s to distract himself from how scared he is. Doing all this stuff isn't just productive and helpful for the city, but it'll keep his mind off of the fact that  _the Oracle is dead, Noct is in a coma, Ignis is blind, and they've got no clue on what's next for them and every step is a goddamn shot in the dark,_ as well. So yeah, it's a win-win.

  
On one particularly cloudy day out in Altissia, he runs into Gladiolus.

  
He’s facing away from Prompto, carrying tables and chairs (several, at the same time, almost like he’s showing off) and returning them to their original, upright position. Prompto is briefly amazed at just how many upturned tables there are (seriously, he just spent the last 3 days doing nothing but fixing tables and chairs, how are there still tables and chairs that are upturned?).

  
After the amazement passes, he realizes that he’s seeing Gladiolus, who he hasn’t seen since the first night.

  
“Gladio!” Prompto calls. “Gladioooo,” He runs towards him.

  
Gladiolus properly sets down the tables he’s holding before turning towards the source of the call. “Hey,” he says.

  
Prompto stops only a few inches in front of him, hoping that the lack of distance illustrates his point. However, he failed to consider that with them standing so close to each other, he’d have to look up to maintain eye contact with Gladiolus. He does so, trying not to look embarrassed.

  
“Hey,” Prompto mockingly imitates. “Dude, I haven’t seen you since the fight! That was four days ago, by the way. Where’ve you been?” He sounds more dejected than angry, though the anger in his voice is still apparent, if only a little bit.

  
Gladiolus gives a one-shouldered shrug, then turns and walks away, resuming his task of setting the tables and chairs upright. “Dunno,” He responds. “Around.”

  
Prompto follows him, determined to maintain eye contact. “Where do you even go at night, man? Do you even sleep?”

  
Gladiolus seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact as he turns away once more, looking to pick up a chair on the far side of the street. “Same as you,” He says, a bit harshly, still walking. “The Leville.”

  
“I never see you.” Prompto follows him once again, feeling more like an annoying puppy rather than whatever he’s actually trying to be right now.

  
“I get back late.” Gladiolus almost sounds annoyed when he says so.

  
“And you leave early?” The younger of the two tries not to sound too much like a demanding mother, not that he’d know what a demanding mother sounds like. He tries not to sound like Ignis.

  
“Yeah,” Gladiolus says, picking up a table. “That a problem?” He sets it down, before turning and looking Prompto dead in the eye. With how he’s towering over him, it almost seems like a threat.

  
“No,” Prompto nearly stutters. The sudden change in atmosphere had completely taken him off guard. “I was just worried.” He confesses. “I mean… Noct’s in a coma, Iggy’s blind, we all gotta look out for each other right now, yeah?”

  
Gladiolus seems to consider this for a while. He picks up another chair, slower than he had been doing so before. “Yeah. Right.” He sets the chair down properly. “Thanks.” He adds.

  
“No sweat.” Prompto says. “Start getting some more rest.”

  
“Alright, alright,” Gladiolus says, with a smile. “Cut it out already, you’re starting to sound like Iggy.”

  
“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables! And let’s grab some more Ebony while we’re out, okay?” Prompto jokes. The two of them share a laugh that dispels any tension they had in between them.

  
On his way back to the Leville, Prompto wonders why Gladiolus was so intent on giving himself a hard time, and working himself half to death with the restoration effort.

  
It isn’t until later that he realizes that maybe Gladiolus is scared, too.

 

* * *

 

  
  
After a few more days, Altissia seems like it’s almost back to how it was before Leviathan’s outburst. Most, if not all, of its citizens have returned, and construction to restore the broken walls and windows is nearly complete. It's amazing what people can do when they work together, especially with the power of modern technology under their belt.

  
With all the tables upright, all the flowers repotted, and all the gondolas where they should be, Prompto is at a loss for what to do to pass the time.

  
He walks around the once unnavigable capital a few more times, sure he’s memorized the streets by now. He snaps photos of people smiling, of order being restored, and of the sun shining over the city. ‘It’s always darkest before the dawn,’ he muses still, ‘that would make a great song lyric,’ he concludes, snapping another photo of a window he remembers was in pieces the last time he passed by it.

  
He's explored Altissia so much, in fact, that it’s been quite a while since he even stepped into Noctis’ room. He doesn’t realize this until he passes by Ignis in the hallway one morning. Ignis, who he also hasn’t seen, since Ignis spends all his time in Noctis’ room, which Prompto hasn’t stepped into in a while.

  
“Iggy,” Prompto says, the impact of the realization still taking its toll. “Uh,” He stumbles over his words. How could he be such a negligent friend? “Any news?”

  
“Barely a stir, I’m afraid.” Ignis stops walking to pay full attention to the conversation with Prompto.

  
“How long has it been now?” Prompto asks. Since nothing too pressing has been happening, time has been a concept that he had long since lost track of.

  
“About a week, I believe.” Ignis’ voice isn’t low and weak anymore, Prompto notes. “It can’t be too long before he shows signs of waking.”

  
“Good to hear.” Prompto smiles. With hesitation, he adds, “And… What about you?”

  
Ignis doesn’t respond for a moment. Prompto is about to withdraw the question, but the former replies. “Quite the same.” He says solemnly.

  
“I see.” Prompto almost chokes when he realizes what he just said. He tries not to let it faze him. He’s confident that the more mature of the two will understand what he meant.

  
“I assure you,” Ignis continues, “There is nothing about me that should warrant concern. I get by fine. Focus, instead, on what truly matters.”

  
“But,” Prompto presses, naivete showing. “You matter.”

  
“Hardly, given how incapacitated I have become due to my recklessness.” Ignis doesn’t skip a beat. “We can only hope things return to their original state before long.”

  
Prompto lingers on the thought that Ignis had just called himself useless for a while. He doesn’t notice that Ignis had walked past him and into Noctis’ room, leaving him alone in the hallway.

  
After that encounter, he spends more time guarding Noctis.

 

* * *

 

 

One more week passes. Prompto spends all his time in Noctis’ room.

  
Sometimes, he accompanies Ignis, and they talk about places they’ve read about (Ignis recalls one story about an ancient town named Zanarkand, and Prompto talks about some land called Luxendarc), and compare daggers to guns. Other times, it’s Gladiolus watching over Noctis, and they talk about which enemy would beat which (An Anak could beat a Voretooth, but a Coeurl could easily kill an Anak. They agree that Seadevils and Coeurls are evenly matched), and play King’s Knight until one of them runs out of charge.  
There are days when all three of them are together, and they talk, and laugh, and tell stories, and it feels like they’re back at the start of their journey, when everything was fine and no one was in a coma.

  
Prompto is just about to make his way towards Noctis’ room one day, when Ignis enters his, instead.

  
“He’s awake.”

  
Prompto nearly falls out of his bed.

  
When he enters Noctis’ room, he almost chokes on the air of solemnity surrounding him. Noctis is sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through the pages of his shared journal with Lady Lunafreya. He looks like he’s about ready to cry, but he also looks like he’s been crying for the past 5 hours. Prompto considers leaving, giving him his privacy to mourn, but Noctis notices him standing in the doorway.

  
“Prompto,” He looks up, setting the book down on the nightstand. “Hey.”

  
“Hey Noct.” Prompto hesitates, unsure if he should approach him, or be wary to not overstep his boundaries. He decides to fully enter the room, and take a seat on the foot of the bed. “Nice to see you back among the living. You scared us, dude.”

  
“Sorry.” Noctis bows his head slightly, as if he should seriously apologize for getting into a coma.

  
“Nah, no worries. Everyone needs their 2-week beauty sleep sometimes.” Prompto jabs, trying to make light of the situation.

  
They sit in silence a while, before Prompto remembers the photograph he had taken of a sleeping Noctis the first morning after the battle with Leviathan.

  
He pulls it out and hands it to Noctis. “Here,” he says, “I took this while you were sleeping.”

  
Noctis takes the photo from Prompto. “That’s not creepy at all.” He jokes, but his words are hollow. He looks it over, simultaneously admiring his own facial features and Prompto’s photographing skills. “Looks great.”

  
“Thanks.” Prompto is unsure how to handle the situation; he knows that his somnolent friend needs space, needs time to grieve, but he also wants to just jump at Noctis, to ruffle his hair, punch his shoulder, and blow raspberries on his embarrassingly soft stomach. He wants to remind himself that he’s alive. That Noctis is alive.

  
He keeps to himself.

  
“I should get going,” Prompto breaks the silence once more. “These hotel bills won’t pay themselves, y’know. I’m gonna take on some hunts.” It’s not exactly a lie, but making an excuse to escape isn’t exactly how he pictured their reunion going.

  
“Kay.” Noctis replies. Is he avoiding eye contact? “Seeya.”

  
“Later.” Prompto waves, getting up, and stepping out of the room.

 

* * *

  
  
The next day, Noctis isn’t even in his room when Prompto tries to check on him.

  
He asks Ignis where he’s gone, but Ignis doesn’t know either. Neither does Gladiolus. Both are surprisingly unconcerned, saying that he’s probably somewhere around Altissia, moping. He can’t have gone far, considering his terrible sense of direction.

  
After spending the better part of the week before exploring the capital, Prompto has long since mapped out every corner of it. He finds his wayward companion leaned over the railing on one of Altissia’s many arching bridges, looking down into the water below him. Classic moping pose.

  
“Noct!” Prompto says, a bit louder than he would’ve liked, thought Noctis doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, if he hadn’t known better, he’d say that Noctis hadn’t heard him. He leans over the railing, mirroring Noctis’ position. “Been looking everywhere for you.”

  
“Yeah.” Noctis acknowledges. Neither of the two continue the conversation, opting to look over the surface of the water in silence.

  
It’s almost unreal, Prompto thinks as he stares down onto the surface, how the water that drowned Altissia just days ago is the same water that continues to sustain it. ‘Funny how the things you love the most are the things that can kill you,’ He muses once more, ‘I gotta stop with the fake-deep musings,’ he concludes.

  
“Prompto,” Noctis starts, breaking Prompto out of his trance. “You should leave.”

  
“Oh, uh,” The words almost hurt him, but he realizes, his friend probably needs more time to himself. It’s hard for Noctis, more than it is for anyone else. He makes a move to walk away. “I get’cha. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

  
“No,” Noctis places a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, motioning for him to stay. He obliges, albeit confusedly. “I meant… Go back to Lucis. You’re not safe here.” Noctis’ voice is low, and dripping with sincerity and concern. It makes Prompto’s stomach turn.

  
“What? Dude, come on,” He tries not to sound too distressed. “I can’t just leave. I think I’d die on my own.”

  
“You’ll die if you stay with me.” Noctis is avoiding eye contact for sure this time.

  
“You know that’s not true. I’ve got Gladio and Ignis to back me up.” Prompto tries to defend himself, but Noctis seems unconvinced, especially with the latter statement.

  
“You don’t know what’s gonna happen,” Noctis raises his head, looking Prompto in the eye in an attempt to convey even more sincerity and concern. “You’re gonna get hurt.”

  
“You say that like you do know what’s gonna happen.”

  
He replied without thinking, but briefly recalls that before, way before, back when they first arrived at Altissia, that Umbra would appear more than usual, for no apparent reason. When asked about it, the prince would shrug and say, ‘Dunno. Time travel.’

  
Was it not a joke? Prompto had always brushed it off, chalking it up to Noctis’ love for animals and need to waste time playing with dogs. But given the current situation…

  
“Wait… dude.” He’s hesitant at first, but decides to rip off the band-aid. “Are you from the future? Do I die?”

  
“I’m not.” Noctis says, clearly annoyed, but Prompto can tell that he’s glad the mood has lightened, even if it was the subject of his own hypothetical death that brought it about.

  
Noctis breaks eye contact, opting to focus on the current below them once more. “Look around.” The tense atmosphere returns as quick as it had gone. “I don’t have to be from the future to know that you’re gonna get hurt if you stay with me. Just…” He trails off.

  
“Let me save someone.” He finishes. Prompto can hear his voice crack when he says it. He thinks it makes his heart crack, too. He moves towards Noctis to initiate some type of physical contact, like a pat on the back, or a prolonged half-hug, anything, but Noctis turns away before he can do anything.

  
He decides to leave his friend be.

 

* * *

 

The next day, they leave for Cartanica.

  
It turns out that Noctis was right.

**Author's Note:**

> there's a scene in there that is pretty much a written version of a comic i did a few weeks ago, u can find it here  
> http://bismuthllie.tumblr.com/post/155671109697/something-i-had-to-get-out-of-my-system-how-many 
> 
> hope u enjoyed. sorry 4 the unsatisfying ending


End file.
